Passengers - Sex Stories

Passengers

... your skin. The vulnerable slopes and valleys of your every curve. I just want to be what you need here. Don't we all deserve that, even if it has to remain a secret? Someone we can lose ourselves on the surfaces of, in the folds of them taking us. I can take you, fill you to the brink of fire spilling through your being. I can gently caress and cradle you in the aftermath. Or we just snuggle in the backseat. Use our coats as blankets, stay sheltered in this steel and glass husk from the worst of the cold. Let the trapped warmth beneath rise the longer we stay, looking at the dark patchwork above illuminated by every still star. There is a need, though, radiating in your eyes, something you can't fight or still long enough to understand. Some things need no explanation, no language to wrap around the fragile meanings of. There is a beautiful and dangerous simplicity in this, to want another so entirely. For the weighted consequences to be temporarily jettisoned off to some distant void in the mind where they will stay as small ripples we've grown numb to. Any second thought I may have had in the recesses of my mind are attacked and dissolved now by your lips almost furiously covering mine. As if you felt a graze, just a tiny wave of my reluctance and had to claim me before any other tide could sweep me away from you. My tongue trespasses into your mouth as I feel your hand grip me below, playful little squeezes before the teeth on my zipper begin to slowly part, your ...

... fingertips always knowing exactly how to undo me. You speed up then, each move calculating and swift .There have been times where I've been in control and when we've traded, handed over ourselves with trust to be taken. But tonight has been all you. The text from you earlier, your car, and your idea of where we should venture off to. There's something more primal than usual glinting in the oceanic orbs of your eyes as you help pull my jeans and boxers off, something predatory that makes me harder than ever, a sensitive throbbing column of nerves. Your light blue panties, already slightly translucent from your juices, come off in moments, falling on the mixed mass of our clothing on the floor. In our flurry of moving back here and stripping, I end up sitting right behind the passenger's seat as you come over. Prowling towards your prey. You grip me with another playful squeeze that, now that I am fully exposed, almost makes my thick head want to burst with delirious pressure, but loosen your hand a little seconds later. Your strokes are soft and slow at first, summoning a relieved gasp from me as my fingers part your lips, already glistening and slick, swollen with need. You also gasp when I first breach beyond them and for a moment I remember how cold it is tonight, that I must have felt like a malleable icicle to you at first. But, as I begin to slowly probe, each movement coating my fingers in fragrant juices, the friction and inner heat warming me in seconds. Your hips sway to my ...